


Twenty-One Pilots - Stop Thinking

by Rovelae



Category: BLURRYFACE - Twenty One Pilots (Album), Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Depression, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-25 23:10:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9851033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rovelae/pseuds/Rovelae
Summary: One of Tyler's mental battles against Blurryface, the embodiment of his fears and self-hate.





	

**Author's Note:**

> *****TRIGGER WARNING - SUICIDE / SELF-HARM MENTION!*****  
> Read at your own risk.
> 
> Not a Joshler fic.
> 
> Posted on DeviantART under the same name. Comments and critiques are appreciated.

_“It’s been a while, Tyler.”_

It _has_ been, he realized, slowly raising his head to meet the gaze of the thing in the mirror. Its eyes stared back at him, glazed and dead and grey, set above a widely-grinning mouth.

 _“Don’t give me that look,”_ Blurryface said. _“You didn’t really think I was gone, did you?”_

Tyler lowered his head onto his arms, breathing deeply.

_“So what’s wrong with you this time? You look even more screwed up than usual.”_

“I’m just tired.”

_“Ah hah. That’s a good one.”_

“I don’t need you. Leave me alone.”

 _“Don’t_ need _me? You’re the one that brought me here in the first place. I’m the only one who can help you, after all.”_

“Stop talking to me."

_“Why? You know I have the way out.”_

Tyler’s eyes went to the noose looped around the apparition’s black throat, and he immediately jerked his head away. “...No. I said that was out of the question.”

Blurry’s stained hands pulled the rope tighter and he tilted his head to one side, making a low _khh-hh_ noise.

“Stop.”

_“The human brain survives three minutes without oxygen. It’s a whole lot shorter if you jump the right way and break your neck.”_

“I told you to stop.”

The other scowled. _“What? You’ve got to deal with it somehow. That’s what the doctor said, isn’t it?”_ His eyes went wide. _“Ohh, I have a better idea.”_

Tyler looked down and found his hand curled around a razor.

_“Hmm? You remember. Just pop out the blade and....”_

His fist clenched and he exhaled, watching the fluorescents glint off of the silver as he twirled it in his hand. “No. I’m tougher than that.”

Blurryface laughed coldly. _“It’s funny how you said that with a straight face,”_ he hissed. _“Come on, don’t lie to yourself. You’re not strong. Just ask these.”_ He raised his forearms to reveal the spiderwebs of thin white scars traced across their undersides.

Tyler turned away again, his chest tightening. “I don’t need to do that anymore,” he said. “You can’t make me.”

 _“I don’t need to_ make _you.”_ Tyler could hear the smile in his voice. _“You’ll do it no matter what I say. Why do you think I’m here, Tyler? You can’t get rid of me. No amount of therapy, Prozac, or sleep can do that. I’ll always be right here....”_

Tyler hardly felt himself wrench the cover off of the razor and pull one of the blades free.

_“See? I always win.”_

“I’m so tired,” he gasped, the blade pressed between his fingers. “Why doesn’t it get better?”

_“It’s not about how hard it is. You’re just too weak to handle it.”_

“It hurts, Blurry, it _hurts,_ it’s like I’m choking—”

_“So make that pain a reality. Give it a reason to hurt.”_

The razor trembled in his grasp.

_Bzz-zmm._

Blurry’s eye twitched and his grin suddenly seemed forced.

_Bzz-zmm._

Tyler dropped the razor and stumbled out of the bathroom, grabbing his phone from the dresser.

 **Josh:** dude I’m so bored

 **Josh:** why arent you at my house

A strangled laugh tore itself from his throat.

Blurry scoffed from across the room. _“You’re just delaying the inevitable, you know.”_

Tyler ignored him and sent a quick reply:

 **me:** wondering the same thing

 **Josh:** wait are you wondering why I’m not at your house or you’re not at my house?

Another laugh. Tyler sank onto his bed, running a shaking hand through his hair.

 **me:** both i think

 **Josh:** forget it, lets go to taco bell.

 **me:** yeah come pick me up

 **Josh:** already outside

The apparition leaning against the far wall shot a glare at the window, then turned his dead eyes back to Tyler. _“Until next time,”_ he said, and faded back into the shadows.

But Tyler was already headed outside.

  
  


_He closed the passenger door and tipped his head back against the head rest, glancing at Josh out of the corner of his eye. “Rough morning?”_

_Josh looked back at him with his dark eyes masked in red and nodded slowly. “You all right?” he added, his gaze falling on Tyler’s black-stained throat._

_“Let’s just get out of here.”_


End file.
